My Black Eye Casts No Shadow
by rainbowrites
Summary: The Cadwello family hurt Kurt. Blaine takes care of him, and takes care of business. After all, if he didn't respond to them, what kind of man would he be? Not one at all. They need to understand that they can't touch Kurt, or what they have. Mafia!Blaine


Title: My Black Eye Sees No Shadow

Rating: T, for non-graphic descriptions of sex and violence

Word Count: 3,127

Summary: A Klaine Mafia fic

Inspired by Rowrr's fic Taking Care of Business .

Summary: The Cadwello family hurt Kurt. Blaine takes care of him, and takes care of business. After all, if he didn't respond to them, what kind of man would he be? Not one at all. They need to understand that they can't touch Kurt, or what they have.

Oh my goddd, my first fanfic. I was reading Rowrr's fic Taking Care of Business . (it's absolutely amazing, go check it out. And while you're there check out EVERYTHING ELSE, seriously) and loved the idea of Blaine as a mafia don. I trolled around the Internet for a while trying to find more Mafia!Glee fic but couldn't find any. And thus, my fanfic was born! I also found out that Blaine is actually an Irish name, so in my head!canon for this fic my excuse is that instead of his mom being Filipino, she's Irish.

I have absolutely no idea what to do about summaries or ratings, so any advice in that would be SO appreciated. I don't think of this as being a fic with graphic descriptions of violence, but I didn't want to trigger anybody or freak anyone out so I opted to err on the side of caution.

This is my first step into the world of Glee fandom beyond lurking, so please be gentle. That being said, I would LOVE any CC, or any comments at all. Okay, author spazzing over. I hope you enjoy!

Title comes from "Kiss With a Fist" by Florence + The Machine. Shameless plug: go listen to all her stuff, she's fantastic

Work Text:

"Blaine...?" The room is blurry, but Kurt can make out the vague outline of a gelled head that he would recognize anywhere.

"Oh, Kurt, _thank god_" The last part comes out in a hot rush of hair by Kurt's temple. Kurt takes a moment to realize that he's lying in bed, Blaine on his knees beside it. His head is curled into the curve of Kurt's neck, and Kurt can feel tears sliding down his skin, pooling in the dips of his collarbone. He pets the gelled hair as soothingly as his shaking fingers will allow.

"I was so scared Kurt" Blaine's voice shudders, thick with tears, "God Kurt, if anything happened to you-" He takes a ragged breath, pressing his lips to Kurt's jaw, right above the pulse point. He leaves them there, and Kurt wonders if he's reassuring himself that Kurt's heart is still beating or if he just can't bear to lose a single point of contact.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, seriously Blaine, I'm totally fine." He pushes at Blaine's forehead until he can look into his eyes, the hazel ringed with red, "They just knocked me out, they didn't... _do_ anything to me." He puts on his most encouraging smile as Blaine just looks even more miserable at Kurt having mentioned the possibility of anything happening to him.

"Seriously Blaine, I'm totally fine." When Blaine just keeps staring at him, reddened eyes roving all over his face as though trying to make up for the two days of lost sight, Kurt smiles as impish as his achy muscles will let him, "Although I could go for a couple of chocolate chip biscotti." He tries to wink, but ends up blinking sleepily.

"As long as you eat them with me." He adds, mentally promising himself nothing but salads for a day once he gets back on his feet. "And a piece of pumpkin torte." Maybe two days.

Blaine laughs, shaking his head slightly in wonder as he looks at Kurt with that same puppyish look of awe and love that hasn't changed in over ten years. Kurt can feel his cheeks begin to heat up so he shoves Blaine as hard as he can, which isn't hard at all. Blaine gets up anyway, swaying slightly, drunk on the sight of Kurt back in their bed.

"One gut buster supreme coming right up!" He sings, laughing giddily as Kurt sticks his tongue out at him.

He skips down the marble hallway to the kitchen, for once not caring if anyone sees him as less than completely composed. He's smiling so hard that he can barely see and nearly twirls into the refrigerator before managing to steady himself. He presses his forehead against the cool metal, breath condensing on its smooth surface.

Kurt is safe, Kurt is home, Kurt is _okay_. Blaine can feel a sob start up in his throat but manages to strangle it back down. He runs a hand over his hair, more out habit than anything since he's long perfected the art of gelling it into submission. Even when Kurt was gone, when Blaine felt like he could his heart literally tearing itself out of his chest trying to get back to Kurt, his hair remained impeccably gelled. Kurt's the only one allowed to see with it down. Kurt's the only one who's ever seen _him_ and not just another impeccable cog. Blaine feels another sob threaten to break its way out of his chest at the thought of losing that, losing Kurt, so he focuses on trying to find the pumpkin torte in their enormous fridge.

Once he's found it, he rummages around the kitchen until he finds a generous selection of biscotti, including the decadent deep chocolate ones that Kurt won't even look at normally for fear of expanding his waist through some kind of calorie osmosis.

Blaine's humming _Teenage Dream_ under his breath as he arranges the biscotti in a fan around the generous slices of torte when he hears Wes's distinctive squeaky steps stop right outside the kitchen door.

"You can come in you know," He says without looking round, still squinting at the plate to try and determine if he can possibly form the biscotti into a heart around the torte without breaking any of them, "You don't need to always stand on ceremony Wes. Although," he laughs, still high off of the knowledge that _Kurt's here, Kurt's okay_, "I guess asking you to ever stop being serious might be the same as asking you to stop breathing or something. Like, does not compute!" Blaine spins, already halfway into a bound towards his friend to envelope him in a giddy hug when he sees the other man's face. He stops immediately, one hand slipping into his pocket as he pulls himself back in.

"Sir."

Montgomery drops his head respectfully as Blaine nods at him, his polite business smile playing around his lips. They're not friends, not right now.

"We have him sir. Your brother has already questioned him. He is willing to defer to you on what should be done in the matter."

Blaine nods, although he's not surprised in the slightest. Of course Angelo will defer to him on this. They went after Kurt; it's all but tantamount to a direct attack on him. If he doesn't address it, what kind of man will he be?

Not one at all.

He picks up the plate he'd been so painstakingly arranging just moments ago. For a second, all he can feel is the sharp agony that he won't be able to watch Kurt eat, won't be able to just stare at him and memorize every movement. But it's only for a moment. Kurt needs him to be strong for the both of them right now. "I will be there momentarily. Have Angelo bring the man to my study."

He sweeps past Montgomery without a word, but flashes a bright smile over his shoulder when Wes calls after him to tell him that he'll put some milk on to warm for Kurt.

He places the offering gently on their bedside table, letting his fingers run gently over Kurt's face. Kurt blinks up at him, a sleepy smile playing across his lips and Blaine's heart tightens with an almost painful burst of love. He brushes his lips over Kurt's. They're chapped, and that reminds Blaine of what he has to do, what's been done. In the ten years that he's been kissing Kurt, those lips have never been chapped. Never. Kurt's always tasted like Burt's Bees and cinnamon and love and-

Blaine presses his mouth against Kurt's more desperately now, trying to get back the lost days' worth of kisses. When Kurt starts to moan under him, arching up into his lips, he slips off his shoes (aroused, sleepy, what ever his state, Kurt will _kill_ him if he gets dirt on their silk sheets) and gently pushes Kurt back down onto the mattress. Blaine brands his love into Kurt with a trail of fiery kisses and they clutch at each so fiercely that when Kurt finally comes, gasping Blaine's name over and over like a prayer, he leaves little half-moon bruises on Blaine's arms.

Blaine kisses his eyelids and murmurs about beautiful Kurt is, how much Blaine loves him, how happy he makes Blaine, how Kurt is the most amazing thing this world has ever created, how Blaine will never ever let Kurt go and will love him forever and ever and then even longer – until Kurt finally falls asleep.

When he's sure that Kurt won't wake up, he gently extracts himself and cleans himself up in the bathroom. Once he's impeccable again, he steps into the hallway, business smile firmly in place.

Blaine narrows his eyes.

The man held between Jeff and Nick is sagging slightly, a trickle of blood winding its way down cheek, but still meets Blaine's eyes. Blaine smiles at the look of defiance in them, chuckling slightly to himself. The chuckle sends a visible spasm through the man's shoulders.

"Vincenzo, wasn't it?" Blaine's tone is polite, friendly even, as though they were greeting each other over champagne at a dinner party. He's careful not to say Vincent. They are Italians after all, and one must observe the proper etiquette.

"You know who I am" Vincenzo tries to spit at Blaine's feet, but Jeff's open hand catches his chin and sends it slamming up, rattling his teeth audibly. Blaine thanks Jeff warmly for saving Maria the trouble of having to come in later and clean up the floor.

"Yes, Vincenzo." His genial smile never wavers, "Of course I know you!" His fingers tap idly on the leg perched delicately on his knee. It's not until he notices Wes looking at him exasperatedly that he realizes he's tapping out the melody to _Teenage Dream_. "Vincenzo Cadwello, third son of Antonio Cadwello. You attended Exeter High School and then spent three years at University of Chicago studying... Pre-Law I believe? before dropping out when your older brother Pietro died in that unfortunate bit of business a few years ago."

"Unfortunate bit of business my ass!" Vincenzo screams, eye round with hatred, "You had him killed!"

Blaine tilts his head slightly to acknowledge that he'd heard him but otherwise ignores the outburst, "You and your brother seem to share an unfortunate," his smile turns the slightest bit sharper as he lets the word slip over his tongue like honey, "predilection towards drug use." He smiles, leaning forward conspiratorially, "Well, I say drug use. More like drug sales isn't it?"

Vincenzo breathes heavily for a few moments, air whistling through his broken nose.

"You're soft."

"Excuse me?" Blaine asks, eyebrows raised in polite confusion.

"You heard me," Vincenzo's eyes dart across the room before settling back on Blaine's face. They settle on his eyebrows, avoiding looking directly into his eyes. Blaine suddenly remembers Kurt kissing his eyebrows and telling him that triangles are his favorite shape, _honestly!_ His hand shoots out and he twists Vincenzo's nose, feeling the bone scrape and shudder with the man's agonized screams beneath his fingers .

Blaine wipes a bit of blood off on his handkerchief, careful to get any that got under his nails. He waits patiently as the man writhes in Jeff and Nick's arms.

"Excuse me?" He repeats, genial smile still in place.

"You..." Vincenzo's voice is nasal and hoarse from screaming, "You... filthied the bonds our families had..." He flinches as Blaine reaches toward him again. Blaine merely tucks an errant curl back behind Vincenzo's head, looking for all the world like a genial uncle. He notes with distaste that Vincenzo wets himself at the contact and makes a mental note to call Maria in later; poor woman, she's already overworked trying to keep a place this big spotless all the time.

"I seem to recall that your family was the one that decided to ignore the mandate that my brother set down. Namely, _no drugs_."

"Drugs are where all our money comes from! You knew you were damning our family when you forced the other Dons to follow you!" Vincenzo's eyes are wild now; he gives strangled little cries as he tries to continue shouting, so many words flooding his throat until he chokes on them. Or maybe it's blood, Blaine's not sure.

Blaine shrugs, crossing his legs and clasping his hands delicately over his knee, "It wasn't the fault of the Anderson family that the Cadwello family refused to change with the times." He shook his head sorrowfully, "All the other families have expanded. You really have no excuses." Blaine tilts his head down, looking up at the man from beneath his lashes in a long considering look, "Now, unless you have something else you wanted to say...?" He starts to raise a finger.

"And you pollute the work we do by bringing in these _non-Italians_," His spits the word like it's the worse slur he can imagine; to him, it probably is, "into it! Are you trying to destroy our family?" Jeff's hand moves towards his face again but Blaine stops him with a minute shake of the head. He needs to know what the dissenters are thinking after all, if he wants to have any hope of protecting Kurt and his family, "You, who doesn't even have a proper Italian name, you fucking mick fa-" His words are broken off into screaming as Nick methodically breaks the first two fingers of his right hand. He still manages to spit in Wes's direction before Jeff's hand slams his chin back up, this time catching the tip of his tongue and cutting it clean off. Blaine waves off Jeff's hurried apologies. Poor Maria. He really is going to have to give her a raise. And maybe one of those mini-muffin baskets.

"Montgomery and Thompson are the best. I employ the best, regardless of their race, creed, gender, or sexuality. Discrimination has no place in the world, even in our little corner of the Old World. I learned that at Dalton" He walks over to Montgomery and places his hand on his shoulder, still smiling at Vincenzo. If it had been Blaine and Wes, it would have a friendly clap. As it was, it was a mark of ownership, and everyone in the room knew it. "I won't have you sullying the name of my employees. When you insult them, you see" He ducks his head slightly, smile still sitting placidly on his face, "you insult me."

"Now," Blaine taps his chin thoughtfully, "what should I do with you?"

Montgomery answers his silent question. "The Cadwello family has divorced themselves from Vincenzo's actions. Antonio claims shock and revulsion at the idea of what his son chose to do in a sadly misguided attempt to impress him" At his words Vincenzo starts to writhe again, so Nick breaks his right pinky finger, "and gives the boy entirely into your hands, to do with him as you like for bringing dishonor to their family. They only ask that you not let this unfortunate incident color your one hundred and fifty-seven years of familial bonds, dating back to 1855 when Giovanni Anderson and Alonzo Cadwello met aboard the good ship _Lucky Lindy_ on their way to America."

"Of course," he answers distractedly, frowning down at Vincenzo like he's a particularly challenging crossword, "It's a matter of honor."

"However..." Montgomery trails off slightly before resuming, "the entire family will stand behind you, should you choose to go to war."

Vincenzo starts to struggle again; it's obvious he would have spoken if Jeff's hand wasn't firmly over his mouth, making the whistling of his broken nose even harsher.

"War really is a tricky matter... so very, ungentlemanly." Blaine crouches down so he can look Vincenzo in the eye, "And yet. It wouldn't be a matter of _my_ honor would it? You attacked my husband." For the first time a glint of mania shines in Blaine's eyes, "You attacked Kurt. My Kurt." He casually flicks a piece of lint off his knee into Vincenzo's face, looking up at him through his eyelashes and smiling slightly, "And I'm afraid I just can't let that pass."

Standing and sighing, Blaine shakes his head, looking for all the world truly regretful. He gives a sharp nod to Montgomery, "I won't start a war. It's wasteful bloodshed, a loss of good men. But I won't stand to seem weak. He will be warning. No one can touch Kurt. No one can touch us, or what we have." He turns away.

"Skin him. From the feet up. And then mail the skin to his mother."

He strolls casually back towards the hallway, stopping just under the doorway. For the first time, fury thickens his voice, "And make sure he's awake during every second of it. He took Kurt. He _hurt_ Kurt." Inside his perfectly creased trouser pants, his fingers are clenched so tightly into fists that he can feel blood start to trickle into his palms. "Make sure he feels it."

Blaine curls around Kurt, slipping their legs together and pressing his nose into the hair at the base of the other boy's neck. His hands settle over Kurt's stomach, where he can feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing. It's the most normal and amazing thing Blaine can ever remember doing and he feels almost light headed at all the points of contact.

Wes creeps in a few minutes. Blaine knows that he hovered outside to give them some time together and so doesn't immediately throw him out the way he would have anyone else.

"Would you like me to tell your father that you're not available to attend the Gathering tomorrow morning?"

Blaine fantasizes for a moment about spending the day in bed with Kurt, refamiliarizing himself with every sound he can drag from Kurt's lips with his tongue and teeth and hands. But the sudden image of Kurt's truly epic bitch face should he learn Blaine purposefully skipped a Gathering to, as he would put it, coddle him, makes Blaine assure Wes that he'll be there.

Wes picks up the half empty glass of milk from the bedside table, puts his hand on Blaine's shoulder and squeezes gently before walking out.

Kurt mumbles and shifts in on himself. Blaine tightens his grip, just shy of doing anything that might wake the other man, and breathes in the heady smell of spicy pumpkin torte and sour sweat and _Kurt_. He cries silently, pressing his eyes into Kurt's neck so that the tears slide down his skin.

"Blaine?"

"I love you, god I love you so much Kurt." He presses a shaking kiss to the skin behind Kurt's ear, "You're the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me. I can't-" He buries his face into Kurt's hair, "I just can't imagine losing you."

"-Not gonna lose me," Kurt pets the hand on his stomach clumsily, fingers awkwardly heavy with sleep, "not some left sock."

Blaine's body shakes; he can't tell if it's laughter or another bout of sobs. "God I love you Kurt."

" 'Course you do, I fall in love every time I look in the mirror. Now," Kurt tugs Blaine's arm over him a bit more securely, so that they're spooning properly instead of Blaine just holding him, "sleep time."

" 'Kay."

"Love you"

Blaine kisses Kurt's jaw, which is as close to his mouth as he can get at that angle, "Love you too."

"Now shut up."

Huffing out a laugh, Blaine manages to snuggle even closer to Kurt, before closing his eyes with a smile.


End file.
